Curious.Lucious

It is a Wednesday morning, and as everyone swims through the sludge that is ‘hump day’, I am propelled through it by the tidlewave of drama that ensued last night.

Let me rewind and hit play.

In the realm between dream and wakefulness I hear the sound of a phone ringing. But of course there are no phones in this apartment of ours. It is the intercom.

With the past months of noise outside our little capsule of a room, it has become easy to ignore constant interruption at 3am. So it is with relief that the insistant noise is only the intercom and not rave music – I return into light slumber.

It’s hard to know how much time has gone by, but eventually I hear the knock on our front door and muffled apologies as our landlord opens it- seemingly for our dropkick housemates. Somehow in my state of semi-sleep I am still able to comprehend all this.

As the noises stop, I fall back into a state of unconciousness only to be woken up intermittently by the sound of drawers banging. I vowed that I would give it a couple more minutes before I went into the hall in a fit of rage to tell them to “please shut the fuck up”.

The minutes never eventuated.

Before I know it, I hear yelling, screaming and incessant pleas to “please let go of me” from a familiar effeminate voice.

At this point, A finally decides to awake from deep slumber and turn to me with a sleepy and questioning look on his face. I rearrange my facial muscles to say “I don’t know… WTF”.

The screams become louder. Examples: “let me go, let me go”, [effeminate sobbing], “get away from me”, “don’t touch me”, and believe it or not “you took my fabrics and you SOLD them” etc etc etc.

A and I sit up on our beds wondering if we should go save this poor chap or leave it be and keep ourselves from being beaten to death in our own apartment. Even in the tired state I was in, I wasn’t exactly scared, it was more of an andrenic curiosity.

Finally, some thumping noises, door slamming and more yelling later, we decide we couldn’t stay in our safe little bubble any longer. This was way too exciting to miss! We paved our way downstairs cautiously - behind the kitchen door we heard anxious muffles, while upstairs behind another door we heard someone else blow their nose – I don’t know why I remember this minor detail. Feeling like we shouldn’t intrude, we skulked back to our room in a state of limbo.

All the while, outside in the court below, we could hear concerned neighbours yelling our landlord’s name (he’s a friendly chap and the neighbours know and generally like him). In an irate voice, we heard him reply-”I’m fine. I’m ok. It’s just a fight. Indoor fight. I’m ok. Can you call the police please?”

They seemed oblivious to his last request, and promptly I heard him speaking tiredly down the phone, asking for the police and the ambulance. A and I pace forwards and backwards, not knowing what to do or where to go, with the limited space in the apartment, we couldn’t exactly stand around watching the show from afar; we were either in it, or out of it.

After another call to the police – according to our eavesdropping, our landlord was unsure the police were taking him seriously, and wanted to make sure they were making their way over – they finally arrived. Blue flashing lights illuminated our room in movie-esque style, A and I opened our door, sure that we would be safe now that the blues were here.

What happend next was a blur, most of the night are fragments of what we heard through our door and from outside our window above all the commotion. What we gather is the Deans (our gay roomies both have D names):
-Had a fight of some sort (we heard key words money, cash machine, homeless person)
-D1 the scared one ran home earlier (presumably away from his loverboy) – this explained the incessant doorbell.
-D1 starting packing his things (explains the drawer rukkus)
-D2 came home shortly after (this is when things started to get loud)

We heard D2 try to tell the cops what happend but couldn’t figure out if he was lying. He insists that D1 has all his money otherwise wouldn’t care where he went to stay the night.

After all that, we figured D1 went off into sanctuary in a taxi. D2? A thinks he saw his blonde mane in the back of the cop car.

It was hard to go back to sleep with all that adrenaline pumping through our veins, but finally we filtered back into the murky depths, both agreeing – yes, now we must SURELY be entitled to new room mates?

When I woke up this morning, things seemed less dramatic. Besides their open room door (they never have it open), and a toppled vase with fake plants strawn around it, you would never guess what had happend the night before.

As the day comes to an end, me and A look forward to a little chat with our landlord, hoping the lucky stars have finally aligned for us – will we really be looking forward to new and better roomies? Cross your fingers and your toes for us!